


The Three Hugs

by pravenclaw



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Altober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pravenclaw/pseuds/pravenclaw
Summary: When Albus Potter thinks of the many hugs he's experienced over the course of his life, three come to mind. Three which he immediately committed to memory and thinks about often, whenever he needs to.This is Cursed Child compliant. Some moments from the play were used.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	The Three Hugs

Albus Potter had been hugged many times in his life. Most of them happened when he was young, when a hug was simply a hug, and not something he sought out or looked forward to. Before they held any real meaning to him. Before he thought to commit them to memory and remember them forever.

Grandma Weasley gave great hugs. Hers were warm and soft, fuzzy and a little itchy, owing to the rough knitted jumpers she was so very fond of. Hers were often and frequent when he was a child, sitting on her knee or entering the room in which she was sat. The extra tight, squeezy hugs she’d give out each time they arrived at the Burrow for Christmas, which as Albus got older, he looked forward to more with each passing year.

Of all the many hugs Albus had experienced in his life, there were three which stood out most for him.

The first was when he was young. Just six, or maybe seven-years-old. He remembered Lily was very young, young enough to still throw tantrums and cause the glasses to smash and books to tumble down from the bookshelves. Everyone was at the Burrow, even his dad, who wasn’t as swamped down with files at work. He hadn’t been appointed Head of the Department just yet, that wasn’t for a few more years.

It was the end of summer and the trees in the orchard were heavy with leaves and fruit. James had decided he wanted to play Quidditch. Louis and Fred were game too, and Dominique said she’d have a go at being a Chaser. Victoire, who was about to go to Hogwarts for the very first time, said no, though she’d have loved to play. She was too busy making a start on reading through all the books her parents had just bought for her in Diagon Alley earlier that week. In her absence, Dominique said she’d be Keeper.

Albus’s mum said she’d be referee, and a few of his aunts and uncles said they’d play too. Molly didn’t want to play, but Lucy did. Uncle George said she’d make a perfect Seeker, because she was so small and quick on a broomstick. Hermione enchanted a couple of old forgotten apples to be makeshift Bludgers, and Albus was so excited.

When Albus asked James what position he should play, James sneered and replied ‘You’re rubbish, Al! I don’t want you on my team.’ Albus threw a wobbly, but thankfully his dad managed to bring James round. Albus was told he was a Chaser.

Immediately on kick off, Albus accidentally accelerated and flew straight into Rose, who was perfectly fine. Her broom spun a few times, but she quickly regained control. Albus, however, was sent crashing into a tree. His arms and legs were all scratched and scraped from the leaves and branches, and the bristles from the tail of his broom were snapped and bent into all sorts of directions.

‘And _that_ is why I didn’t want him on my team!’ yelled James. Albus could still remember the snickers and giggles from his cousins. They all just carried on playing without him.

His dad helped him up and checked him over, but Albus ran away. Through the orchard and down the hill and straight into the Burrow. He raced past Grandma Weasley who was cooking in the kitchen, all the way up to the top of the rickety stairs and sat there, crying silently to himself.

His mum found him there ten minutes or so later. She said nothing. She sat down beside him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him gently.

‘ _I haaate flying_ ,’ he sobbed into her jumper. ‘ _I hate Quidditch_ ,’ he said.

Albus could remember how she said nothing. She shushed him tenderly, her head resting on his as she stroked his arm. Her warmth washed slowly over Albus. He guessed it radiated out from her heart, out through her chest and into her arms. He held onto her tightly, refusing to let go, but she never attempted to break away from him once. It was Albus who first lifted his head up, his eyes all red and blotchy, his nose running, with a lump still at the back of his throat. And his mum smiled and wiped his tears away. And Albus knew in that moment that he’d remember that hug for the rest of his life.

The second and third hugs were a little more recent and took place on the very same day.

It was a warm Friday afternoon. The sunlight poured into the Transfiguration classroom through the open windows. There was more than warmth in the air, there was a sense of great excitement too. Excitement which could only mean one thing: a Quidditch match.

As Quidditch still filled Albus with a feeling of deep embarrassment and dread, he didn’t think of it much. He always knew when there was a game on, though. His fellow students always acted differently on match days. But lessons were not over just yet. It seemed everyone was anticipating the ringing of the final bell.

It was during that particular Transfiguration lesson that Scorpius nudged Albus in the ribs and informed him of his plan to ask out Rose Granger-Weasley. Albus was taken aback, and although Scorpius himself had some reservations, he still intended on going through with it.

The bell rang and everyone leapt to their feet at once. Professor Moreau, head of Hufflepuff house, was first out the door. Chairs squeaked as everyone crammed them under their desks and rushed out of the classroom.

Rose was mindfully placing her books and quill back into her bag, telling Polly that’d she catch up with her and not to wait. Scorpius dragged Albus out and waited by the door, impatiently rocking on his heels, whilst Albus slumped up against the wall by the medieval portrait of Margery Jourdemayne, who watched on through keen black eyes.

Scorpius asked her in the corridor. Rose mused for a moment, looking him over, before saying ‘ _no_ ,’ in a cool, clear voice. Rose turned and skipped off after Polly, without so much as glance back in their direction.

Rather than appearing crestfallen or downhearted in any way, Scorpius seemed the opposite. He was laughing, grinning, and full of excitement. Albus couldn’t quite believe he’d just done that, and nor could Scorpius himself. They were chatting about it on the main staircase as they headed back to the Slytherin common room.

‘… but did you see that look in her eyes?’ said Scorpius. ‘That wasn’t hate, that was pity!’

‘And pity’s good?’

‘Pity is a start, my friend, a foundation on which to build a palace – a palace of looove!’

They teased each other, back and forth, like they always did. Albus found it curious that after all of it, everything he and Scorpius had been through together, outwardly, Scorpius hadn’t appeared to have changed much at all. He still tripped over his words, many of which Albus still didn’t know the meaning of. He was still funny and quick, and managed to see the light in everything. Only now he had confidence to match. It was a good change, one which Albus was glad to see.

‘I honestly thought I’d be the first of us to get a girlfriend,’ said Albus.

‘Oh, you will, undoubtedly. Probably that new smoky-eyed Potions professor – she’s old enough for you, right?’

‘I don’t have a thing for older women!’

Albus doubted anyone else would be able to joke about what he and Scorpius had been through, but they always did. Regularly.

‘And you’ve got time – a lot of time – to seduce her. Because Rose is going to take years to persuade...’

‘I admire your confidence,’ Albus grinned.

It was then that Rose appeared suddenly, as if she had shot up from the very flagstones themselves. ‘Hi!’ she shouted, startling them both. Scorpius fell down a few steps and began flapping his cloak around, before leaning up against the balustrade, his attempt at acting suave. As if Scorpius Malfoy could ever be considered _cool_.

Rose surveyed them both, smirking ever so slightly, before locking eyes with Scorpius.

‘This is only going to be weird if you let it be weird,’ said Rose, and Albus’s mouth fell open.

‘Received and entirely understood,’ saluted Scorpius.

‘Okay. _Scorpion King._ ’

Albus was flabbergasted. Rose giggled wildly and skipped off into the Entrance Hall and out into the grounds through the castle’s thick wooden doors. It appeared that she too had detected Scorpius’s newfound confidence.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ said Albus, ‘pity is a start!’

‘Are you heading to Quidditch? Slytherin are playing Hufflepuff – it’s a big one.’

Albus noted he was still grinning.

‘I thought we hated Quidditch.’

‘People can change,’ remarked Scorpius. ‘Besides, I’ve been practising. I think I might make the team eventually. Coming?’

‘I can’t,’ replied Albus, and explained about his dad coming up from the Ministry to walk with him, how he had made time for him. The two of them pretended to vomit and found themselves laughing hysterically.

‘Still, you know,’ said Albus, ‘I think I’ll go.’

It was then that Scorpius reached up and hugged Albus. They had hugged before, twice in fact. Once on the train, at the very beginning of their mad adventure, and then in the lake, when Scorpius almost drowned him. This hug, however, this third ever hug, felt different.

They had always been losers together, equals, but their adventure had changed them both. They’d seen each other at their worst, and their best. Albus was closer to Scorpius than he’d ever been to James, closer than anyone ever. They knew each other inside and out, and sometimes held entire conversations with mere looks, without a single word being uttered. They were each other’s most faithful confidante. Their friendship was in their shared looks, their shared laughter and inside jokes, as well as in their shared moments of silence and sadnesses. And now also in their hugs.

The hug had taken him by surprise, which he professed to Scorpius.

‘I wasn’t sure,’ said Scorpius. ‘Whether we should. In this new version of us – I had in my head.’

‘Better ask Rose if it’s the right thing to do,’ smirked Albus, as Scorpius traipsed off in the direction she had gone. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

The third hug happened less than an hour later.

After leaving Scorpius, he had gone to the Slytherin common room to await his dad who said he’d meet him there. It was deserted, everyone had already made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. The place was quiet. No crackling fire in the grate or animated conversations to be heard. Not even the Giant Squid, who often pressed his gargantuan eye against the windows, could be seen in the murky waters of the Great Lake. Albus was sat in one of the chairs closest to the largest window, the spot where he and Scorpius often occupied.

There was a fizzling noise suddenly, and Albus looked over at the fireplace just in time to see the logs splutter and ignite into bright emerald flames.

‘I’m not late, am I?’ said his dad as he stepped out of the fireplace. Harry Potter glanced at his son and then at his battered old watch. Albus shook his head. ‘Good, good,’ said his dad. ‘Lot on at work at the moment. My department are working with the Hungarian Ministry, trying to quell this trouble with the mountain trolls.’

‘Oh… and how’s that going?’

‘It changes from one day to the next… they’re calling it an uprising now. And, of course, Delphi still isn’t talk– ah, never mind. That’s not why I’m here. Are you ready?’

Albus nodded and followed his dad out of the common room and up to the Entrance Hall. He didn’t say much more, small talk, really, which Albus was indifferent to at the best of times.

It had been a number of months since Delphi and Godric’s Hollow and everything they had witnessed there. Since Craig’s murder. And in all that time, Albus and his dad hadn’t been alone together once. In truth, Albus had been mollycoddled by his family ever since, who were very concerned for him and what he had been through. Things had certainly been easier between him and his family. Things now weren’t as cool and uncomfortable between them now.

As they exited out of the castle and into the grounds, there was a roar of screams and cheers from the Quidditch pitch. Someone had obviously scored.

‘Who’s playing?’ smiled his dad.

‘It’s Slytherin versus Hufflepuff. Big game apparently, according to Scorpius. He’s been following the Quidditch recently. He thinks he might try out next year. He might even be good.’

‘Well Draco was. He had a real talent; I wouldn’t be surprised if Scorpius had inherited it too,’ said his dad.

‘And... I often wonder… if I might be good, if I ever gave it a proper go.’

‘I know you would, Al – _Albus_. I just know it. How about we practise over the summer? Just you and me?’

Albus remembered how his heart had swelled in that moment, how he’d genuinely like nothing more than to practise Quidditch with his dad, as he had imagined everyone else in the world did. He had thought about it before, what it would be like, but it had always felt inconceivable to him, rather than natural and normal as it should be. The feelings felt too much, overwhelming, and all Albus could say in response was, ‘I’d like that.’

His dad nodded and grinned.

‘Though we’d better ask Mum. She’d kill us if we didn’t invite her to a game of Quidditch.’

‘Ha – you’re right. Well she’d better be good if she wants to be on our team.’

‘She shows promise, I think… I think she might be even be quite good,’ said Albus. ‘It runs in our family too. Scorpius reckons Rose might be made Quidditch captain next year once James has left.’

‘Do you see much of her – Rose? Are you friends again?’

Albus simply shrugged. His dad nodded and shrugged in return.

‘Give it time,’ he said.

Albus followed his dad all the way through the grounds and out of the front gates. The winged boars which topped the columns on either side stood still, their large stone wings splayed open wide.

‘Where are we going, Dad?’

‘You’ll see, but we’re going to Apparate,’ he said, ‘put your arm through mine.’

Albus did, making sure to hold on tight with his other hand, just in case. His eyes blurred suddenly as he was ripped from the spot where he was stood. It was like his insides were being pulled and dragged out through his belly button. A second passed, and it was all over. Albus’s feet gave way as they hit solid ground once more, but his dad kept him steady. He felt like he was going to vomit.

‘You get used to it eventually,’ chuckled his dad. ‘Okay?’

‘Yeah. I think.’

His dad released him and started walking ahead. It was then that Albus looked around and realised he was stood at the bottom of a hill in the middle of nowhere. There were wildflowers and long grass all around them, apart from a tired worn track made by frequent visitors which lead up the hill. His dad followed it closely, and so did Albus. After a few minutes of climbing, Albus was surprised to find a small graveyard atop the hill, nestled amongst the flowers and surrounded by a low stone wall. He could see why, of course, it was a beautiful place to be. To rest.

The sun was high in the sky, and the gravestones were bathed in the warm rays of sunshine, the sort which promised a perfect summer. His dad led him through the graveyard slowly, with Albus sticking closely by his side. They chatted as they went. About exams, about Albus’s grandparents, about all sorts of things. There was the odd uncomfortable silence, where they each looked around hoping that the right words would magically pop into their heads, but the words never came.

That was when his dad apologised for what he had said all those months ago, but Albus didn’t need to hear it. Not now. It felt like it had been longer, more like years. Albus knew he had grown and changed so much since then, and he was sorry too.

‘Dad? Why are we here?’ he asked in a small voice. Something about the question made Albus feel so young and childish. He wondered if his dad ever felt that way too.

‘This is where I often come,’ he said.

‘But this is a graveyard?’

‘This is Cedric’s grave,’ said his dad, pointing to the gravestone immediately in front of them. Albus looked at it, his eyes dazzled by the brilliant sunshine. He could just make out the few choice words written on the shining stone.

_Cedric Diggory_

_A beloved son_

Albus felt cold all of a sudden, like something had washed over him. It was a heavy sadness, the sort that could only be put right by having a good cry.

‘Dad?’ he said.

‘The boy who was killed – Craig Bowker – how well did you know him?’

‘Not well enough…’ said Albus, with audible regret in his voice.

‘I didn’t know Cedric well enough either,’ said his dad. ‘He could have played Quidditch for England… or been a brilliant Healer. He could have been anything. And Amos is right – he was stolen. So I come here. Just to say sorry. When I can.’

Albus swallowed as the tears finally broke through.

‘That’s a – good thing to do,’ he spluttered.

He was stood side by side with his dad now, both staring down at Cedric’s grave and thinking about what could have been. His dad nodded firmly and looked up at the sky.

‘I think it’s going to be a nice day,’ he said, and Albus suddenly wasn’t cold anymore. The sadness had turned into something else.

‘So do I,’ said Albus, turning to face his dad, who smiled and put his arm around him. Something about his smile made Albus feel complete, more whole than he had been just seconds before. He was almost as tall as his dad now, and Albus Potter was able to look into the bright-green eyes they shared, and he saw love. They held each other close and melted together, just ever so slightly.

**Author's Note:**

> *Nerdy notes*
> 
> \- Margery Jourdemayne was a supposed witch during the Wars of the Roses. Sadly, she was burnt at the stake. I included her portrait here because I liked the idea of her witnessing Scorpius laying a claim for Rose's heart.
> 
> \- The name for Professor Moreau comes from the Lestrange family tree seen in Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald. Just 'cause.
> 
> This one shot is part of #Altober. October 1st - Hugs.


End file.
